Eclectic
by rowan-greenleaf
Summary: He locked eyes with her and rolled his shoulders casually. Ginny was reminded of a graceful, dangerous feline - a puma maybe. Does that make me an antelope? she thought uneasily. My response to "100 Days, 100 Drabbles". Mostly D/G.
1. New

**01. New**

It had been a movie-star kiss, that's what. Their lips had met, and shivers had broken over her skin. Colors had exploded behind her eyes, and she'd swayed - literally swayed – so that he'd had to steady her with a hand on her waist.

His lips were firmer than Ron's, and at once more yielding when they moved against her own. Maybe _that_ was the reason. Maybe it had something to do with the way he looked at her. Like he wanted to know, like he wasn't afraid. Like he was wide open.

There was just something about him. Something in his silence, his movements, which had all the lightness and grace of a Quidditch Seeker.

And when he'd kissed her –

_Oh, be honest, you great big hussy!_ she berated herself, blushing a little at the memory. _She'd_ kissed him. She'd practically tackled him behind the toolshed in Mrs. Weasley's garden. Really, what in Merlin's name had come over her, taking initiative like that? She couldn't even remember having decided to do it... And yet she had, because she'd known instinctively that he would never make a move on her; in the end, she'd always be his little brother's best friend, and though by all standards a grown woman, she would always be nearly ten years younger than he was.

And so she'd kissed him. And after a night of fretting over what he'd thought of her, of what Ron would say if he knew, of what would happen next...he had Flooed.

And now he'd be here any minute, and the chicken was a disaster – she'd given up on it long ago – and her armpits were drenched in sweat, and the tag on her dress kept scratching at her back, and –

_The doorbell!_

She opened the door and there he was, one hand casually in his pocket, the other holding a bottle of wine. Some of his dark red hair fell over his eye – it wanted cutting, but she'd loved running her fingers through it, tugging at the hair that fell over his collar as their lips met.

Her cheeks glowed with heat at the memory.

"Hermione," he said, in that deep, low voice that sent shivers down her spine. And then he grinned that slightly crooked, boyish grin of his that must have made girls at Hogwarts swoon in his day.

"Charlie... Hello."

* * *

**Prompt**: New

**Word count**: 400

**Pairing**: Hermione/Charlie

* * *

_Eclectic_ is a collection of HP drabbles, my entry to the The DG Forum's** 100 Days, 100 Drabbles Challenge. **Visit The DG Forum for a complete list of the prompts.

As this challenge ended quite some time ago, my intention in completing it is merely to write for the pleasure of it. Most drabbles will be under 400 words, most will feature D/G – but expect variety...and by variety I mean Lucius ;)

**Reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	2. Broken

**02. Broken**

Draco likes to touch her hair. He likes to curl Mum's hair in his finger. He likes to stretch it out far. Sometimes he just pats it, because it feels so soft on his hand.

When Daddy isn't home, Mum lets Draco comb her like she combs him, and she doesn't get angry when he tugs hard and her head moves back.

Mum's hair smells good. Just like when she hugs him so tight that he can't move even a little bit.

Draco laughs and claps his hands together when he sees butterflies dancing in her hair. They are blue.

Mum makes her wand twirl, and they come. When he closes his eyes, he can feel brushing over his eyelashes and his cheeks. He laughs because something tickled his nose, his hand flies to the place where soft wings brushed him.

"Don't try to catch them, Draco," Mum whispers, bringing his hand away from his face. "You'll break their wings and they won't fly anymore."

He opens his eyes again and sees Mummy with the butterflies fluttering in her long, long hair. She is smiling.

He feels happy.

"Narcissa."

That's Mum's name, and it's Daddy that's calling from the house, in his Bad voice. Draco knows Daddy's Bad voice means Draco did something wrong, and it's time to go back into the house.

Mummy gets up and rubs her hands together. She looks down at Draco's face, and Draco knows that he should get up and wipe his hands too.

_Don't try to catch them._

She said don't try to catch them, but both of his hands fly up, closing around air. He can feel tickling inside one of his fists.

"Draco, Father is calling us," Mum says quietly, looking at his hand.

Draco watches Mum walk away. He's afraid of not going to Daddy––Daddy doesn't like to wait––but he can't move. He watches Mummy. He can feel burning in his eyes, in his chest.

He doesn't open his hand.

_Don't try to catch them._

Mummy tells him to go play. She goes to Daddy's office, which Draco must not go into unless Daddy says.

Draco opens his hand. It feels tired and sweaty and warm.

His eyes are burning. He wipes his cheeks, and tastes salt when he kneels down to look closer at the butterfly on the ground. It's only fluttering from one side.

* * *

**Prompt**: Broken

**Word count**: 400

* * *

**Author's note: **Thanks so much to all who reviewed! It was wonderful hearing from some old friends, and meeting some new ones. ^_^


	3. Hope

**03. Hope**

All the potted plants by the kitchen window died that winter. She had tried planting new ones, but they wouldn't take.

Every day she glanced at the empty pots as she washed the dishes. Frost along the edge of each one; no sign of even a single sprig.

Incredibly, this small failure affected her more than any of her shortcomings as a – well... what was she?

She paused as she rinsed out his coffee mug. There was a word in her head, and she wanted to test it out.

(_Housewife._)

Housewife?

No. She wasn't married.

(_She wasn't his wife._)

What was she, then? What was the word?

Homemaker?

Merlin's balls.

She quickly dabbed at the corners of her eyes. After a moment's thought, she flicked the tears off of one of the pots.

_(Why was she crying?)_

Keeping house was hard–even a small flat like theirs. She never understood her mother until she realized that.

If she could say one thing to Molly Weasley, it would be this.

_(No–it wouldn't be 'I'm sorry' or 'I was wrong'._

_As long as the possibility that things would change existed, she wouldn't – couldn't – be wrong.)_

"What am I?" she inquired of him that night, as they lay in bed.

Her cheek rested against the soft alabaster of his shoulder, one long, toned leg snaked around his narrow waist. Vibrant copper-colored curls spilled over his chest, like blood flowers.

Eyes closed, he listened carefully, as he always did, while she recounted her thoughts in the kitchen that morning.

"You are mine," he replied, after some moments. "That should be enough."

His steel gray eyes beheld her in silence. Facing those powerful eyes was like facing the ocean; humbling and at once exhilarating.

"I'll miss you," she whispered softly against his skin.

"I know you will," he murmured. Some of his silvery-blond hair brushed her face as he leaned in, leveling his face with hers. "A week goes by quickly, love... It will be Saturday before you know it."

The next morning she woke to find a single bud sprouting from the pot of ambrosia.

For a reason unknown to her, this discovery made her eyes fill with tears once again. Wiping them away, she settled herself for the wait.

It was only Monday, but a week went by quickly - or so she had learned.

* * *

**Prompt**: Hope

**Word count**: 400

**Pairing**: Lucius Malfoy/Ginevra Weasley


	4. Quills

**04. Quills**

He barely made it in time–a second later a familiar ring signaled the closing of the metal doors.

Without pausing to think, he spread his feet to maintain his balance as the train lurched forward. It was stuffy in the poorly ventilated car, and he was acutely aware of the corn-chip smell of the man next to him. The woman in front kept losing her balance and falling back into him, while the people behind chattered loudly in some language. Monday morning rush hour... After four years, he remained convinced he'd traded up.

The impertinence of fat tourists, the shocking indifference of hardened New Yorkers, the ridiculously high cost of life, and even the subtle but pervasive smell of urine that perfumed the air in most subway stations... A small price to pay in exchange for anonymity. Here in Muggle New York City he was just another nameless face in the crowd.

True, he missed certain comforts. True, walking around without a wand was like missing a body part. He missed magic in his life. And flying...

It would haunt him in the oddest of ways. Just yesterday he'd caught himself looking for a quill when there was a pen next to his hand. Suddenly a pen seemed hopelessly inadequate.

It would have to do; finding wizarding New York meant they'd be able to find him.

He liked his life here. Performing anonymous occupations–French teacher, photographer, 'clapperboard guy' at film shoots–was fun, and more importantly, had nothing to do with who he'd been.

The train came to a screeching halt, jerking him out of his reverie. True to form, the insufferable woman in front fell back into him, this time managing to lose her grip on her purse, its contents spilling out on the floor.

Ever the gentleman–even after two years in the city–he bent down to help her, and to his surprise discovered a pair of quills lying on the floor of the train car.

The woman accepted them from his trembling hands, eyes on his face.

Her name resurfaced from the depths of his consciousness–_How could he have missed that hair?_–and in her face he saw recognition painted clear as day.

_Draco Malfoy! _those eyes accused, even when her lips said nothing.

To his immense relief, she rushed off at Delancey Street and didn't turn back.

It took him exactly two more stops to realize he was disappointed.

* * *

**Prompt**: Quills

**Word count**: 400

**Pairing**: Draco Malfoy/? ~_^

* * *

**Author's note**: For those of you clamoring for D/G, you shall have it soon! Thanks again for the lovely feedback!


	5. Doorway

**05. Doorway**

A full week had passed and he hadn't returned any of her owls. What else was there to do?

The ride up to the penthouse level in the fancy wood paned lift never felt shorter. Barging in on him was what had gotten her in trouble in the first place – _How could I be so _stupid_, so impulsive?_ – but she had to talk to him and there was just no other way.

Walking up to his door, she reached for the bell with trembling fingers.

_Please, please, please...just listen to me. _

Draco opened the door barefoot, dressed in black jeans and a black shirt rolled up at the sleeves. In that moment more than ever she was aware of how miserable she'd been without him, how much she'd missed him. Her heart gave a little leap.

If Draco was surprised to see her he didn't show it. His steel gray eyes met hers for a moment, then looked her up and down carefully.

With her tattered jeans and worn Cannons t-shirt, messy red hair and telltale dark circles under her eyes, Ginny knew she must look anything but enticing.

"Draco!I know that I screwed up," she said urgently, staring up at him through imploring brown eyes. "I shouldn't have followed you to the restaurant like that and then barged in on you and your mum... It's just that...you were so distant. You were _weird_ and... I don't know, I thought there was someone else. But that was stupid! I didn't think... Draco, please. I don't want to lose you, and...and - and-"

She fell silent, unable to continue under his impassive gaze. The fine features of Draco's face were completely devoid of expression, like a beautiful mask. Just like at the restaurant, when she'd stood in front of him and the woman who could only be Narcissa Malfoy, dripping wet from the rain outside. But unlike then, his eyes weren't mocking, or full of disdain. He actually seemed...bored.

The feeling of alarm at the pit of her stomach had heightened to a physical sensation. It was as if her insides were filled with lead. For one horrible moment she thought that he would shut the door in her face, but instead Draco folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

"And?" he prompted, a tinge of impatience evident in his voice.

Ginny searched his ice gray eyes hopefully, but they remained cold, unmoved.

"And... I'm just...sorry."

She breathed deeply, fighting back tears. She would exit with the bit of dignity she still had left.

After a moment's silence, Draco opened the door further. He raised his light gray eyes to hers and waited.

"Are you coming in?"

* * *

**Prompt**: Doorway

**Word count**: 450

**Pairing**: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley


	6. Breathless

**06. Breathless**

The female population of Blarney's Pub couldn't help but take notice of the arrival of two tall, handsome and expensively dressed young wizards.

"Two shots of Ogden's Reserve," Blaise Zabini ordered the barkeep, as Draco Malfoy seated himself on one of the bar stools. "Liquid courage for tonight, eh mate?"

Draco didn't reply, but his jaw tensed. When the shots arrived he quickly downed his and signaled for another.

"Look, Draco..." Blaise began carefully, "I _like_ Ginny, you know I do. But this whole thing... Isn't it just a bit too much trouble?"

The blond appeared to be ignoring him.

"You having to go down to _Ottery St. Catchpole_, for Merlin's sake, to have dinner with a bunch of... of _Weasleys_-"

"I don't _have_ to go, I _want_ to. I _want_ to meet her family," Draco lied, turning to glare at his best mate. "And she is worth all this _trouble_, as you call it, so keep your advice to yourself, alright?"

"Fine, mate," Blaise said quickly. His eyes softened. "I know I've never seen you happier. Good luck tonight, then."

"Thanks," Draco replied stiffly, setting some coins on the counter. He paused to look at himself in the glass behind the bar. "Don't worry, I'll have these Weasleys eating out of my hand in no time."

"Call if you need help," Blaise replied as Draco Disapparated.

Minutes later the Malfoy heir was walking up to the Weasley family's distinctly crooked-looking house. In spite of his boastful words to Blaise at the pub he felt sick with nervousness, and his palms were covered in sweat. He made to knock on the rickety-looking old door, but it burst open.

She was dressed in an emerald-green dress, fiery red hair crowning her head like a halo, her face simply glowing.

They stared at each other wordlessly for a moment, and Draco felt as if his breath had been knocked out of him by a Bludger. His insides were humming with happiness at seeing how happy she was.

_I'm totally whipped..._

"Draco," she whispered, throwing her arms around his neck, "I can't believe you're doing this. Thank you..."

His hands found her waist. She stood on the tips of her toes so she could kiss him, and when her sultry warm lips pressed against his, Draco forgot about everything else.

* * *

**Prompt**: Breathless

**Word count**: 400

**Pairing**: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley


	7. Pain

**07. Pain**

There were scattered whispers all over the castle: his grandfather had died.

She carefully watched as he withdrew deeper and deeper inside of himself, and she understood; he was in profound pain. Tall, lean, and dark, with his casual elegance and exotic beauty, Blaise Zabini was only human, and he could suffer deeply. Who knew?

She continued to watch from afar, fascinated. Then one day, when he sat at a library table staring off into space and looking more forlorn than ever, she gathered her courage and walked over to him, potions book in hand.

"Um, Blaise?" she said, wincing at her own daring in using his given name. It was the first time she had ever spoken to him directly. "I don't want to bother you or anything, but I know that you're good at potions…"

'Good' at potions? Blaise Zabini was outstanding in the subject, surpassing even the formidable Hermione Granger in execution.

"I was wondering if you could, you know, help me…" she finished lamely, as he flicked his eyes on her.

Now, there are green eyes and then there are green eyes. Harry's eyes were striking in their color, but there was a gentleness and obvious kindness in them that was even more disarming. Blaise Zabini's eyes, which were almost the exact shade of green as Harry's, beheld everything with coolness and almost clinical detachment. Even so, there was a fierceness behind them that no amount of practiced aristocratic indifference could mask.

_Like green fire,_ Ginny thought absently, feeling a slightly indecent ripple of fear and excitement as he continued to look at her. For a moment she seriously considered turning around and leaving without waiting for the scathing answer he would doubtless give her, if any.

Blaise looked away from her then, down to the table, where his hands were folded elegantly.

"Do you take me for an idiot?" he inquired softly, looking up at her again. His voice had a lovely timber, and even as she raised her eyebrows in surprise at his words, Ginny briefly wondered what Blaise would sound like singing.

He was still looking at her intently, and she opened her mouth to deny. This had obviously been a mistake.

"_You're_ good at potions, Weasley," he stated quietly, his eyes glinting. "Snape _adores_ you." Here he paused to roll his eyes as Ginny flushed with obvious pleasure at these words.

Locking eyes with her, he cocked his head to the side and shifted in his seat, rolling his shoulders casually. Ginny was reminded of a graceful, dangerous feline, a puma maybe.

_Does that make me an antelope?_ she thought uneasily.

He continued to look at her wordlessly, thinking that he was rather enjoying keeping her standing there. She still held the standard book of potions in her hand, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze. She was taller than he had expected.

"What do you want, really?" he asked slowly.

Ginny stood frozen for a moment, her dubious cover now completely blown. She thought briefly of backing out, but there was something in his eyes that made her tread on. Propelled by an unknown force, she set the book on the table and drew the chair across from him.

Blaise remained unperturbed, but his eyes were vaguely curious. It was a mark of how deep into depression he was that he did not bother to insult her for presuming to sit at his table.

"It's just…" Ginny began cautiously, "I was bored."

Blaise's face remained expressionless, his striking green eyes still trained on hers. She found she couldn't look into them for long.

"And you seemed..._bored_… as well. So I thought…"

A lie.

Blaise did not look bored. He looked as if he'd been waiting for someone to put him out of his misery.

He looked at her again, taking her in shrewdly. He knew that she was deliberately lying, but he let it slide. He realized then that he needed what she was offering, in spite of not wanting it.

"Indeed," was all he said.

He observed the tension in her shoulders dissipate as she sunk into her chair.

"I saw you reading Iris Murdoch," Ginny said quickly, diving for the opening he had left. Her tone hoped to be conversational but was entirely too relieved to succeed.

Blaise smirked, amused. "I saw you reading Danielle Steele," he countered, raising an eyebrow. "Perhaps I should loan you Iris Murdoch."

Despite the not so veiled insult, Ginny found herself smiling. She did not bother to make excuses for her literary faux pas.

"I've read Iris Murdoch, I'll have you know. Have you read Murakami?"

* * *

**Prompt:** Pain

**Word count: **815!

**Pairing:** Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini

**A.N**: Thanks so much for your lovely reviews!

Regarding this drabble, I'm frankly embarrassed by my lack of restraint. I'm sure I could cut it down if I tried, but I won't.


	8. Test

**08. Test**

Ginny carefully sipped her tea. She carefully set the delicate porcelain cup on the equally delicate saucer. She risked a nervous glance around the room.

The other witches were in subdued conversation, their wide brim hats concealing parts of their faces from view. To her immense relief, no one seemed to be paying her much attention.

Draco, who against convention had chosen to sit beside her, leaned towards her and whispered in her ear. "I'm going in the smoking parlour with the other men." At this last past he grimaced, aware of how silly these society rituals were. "You're doing great, darling. See you in a bit."

Ginny rewarded him with a muted sort of smile as he pressed her hand in his. She watched him walk away with a brief sense of panic at the pit of her stomach, her gloved fingers contracting around the fragile tea china.

Her stockings itched like the devil but she'd be damned if she'd get caught scratching at them. So far she hadn't broken anything, hadn't cursed and hadn't spilled any food or beverages over herself or others. Things were going quite well.

All of a sudden she became aware of a prickly sensation in the back of her neck. Turning, she discovered the hawk-like eyes of Narcissa Malfoy fixed on hers. Elegantly dressed in fashionable beige colored robes, the exquisite blonde witch conversed in low tones with another random high society trophy wife or heiress.

Ginny gave a mechanical smile in the general direction of her future mother-in-law and turned away from her ominous gaze. She straightened her shoulders, more conscious of her posture than she'd ever been in her entire life. To her relief, the witch sitting across from her chose the moment to engage her in conversation.

"And?" Lucius Malfoy approached his wife, his steel gray eyes inquiring.

"I believe she hasn't broken anything, or spilled tea or crumpets on anyone – _yet_," Narcissa Malfoy commented dryly.

Lucius cast a critical glance at his son's fiancee, and the corners of his full, sensuous lips curved upwards into a slight smirk. "You must admit she looks the part."

Narcissa Malfoy didn't voice an actual contradiction.

"Well, then. I'll be in the smoking parlour with the rest of the men," Lucius said, smoothing his cravat. "Do let me know if she does anything exciting."

* * *

**Prompt**: Test

**Words**: 398

**Pairings**: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Malfoy


	9. Drink

**09. Drink**

_"Dra-co! DRACO MALFOY!" _Ginny moaned loudly, just before bursting into another round of high-pitched giggling. "Whyyyy? _Why_ aren't you dancing with - hick - me?"

Draco rolled his eyes. His hands firmly on each side of the girl's narrow waist, he tried to steady her from behind as she 'danced'.

"Okay, no more 'apple juice' for you, Weasley," he drawled, taking the plastic cup away from her hand and setting it on the ground. "And I should have said that after the first time you threw up."

Ginny's head fell back onto his shoulder as she continued to laugh.

Her laughter was shrill – and maniacal – but surprisingly pleasant. Her cheeks were reddened, and in the pale light of moonlight her vibrant red hair glowed amber, almost matching the rare shade of her eyes.

Draco smiled, in spite of himself. Even when trashed beyond recognition, Ginny Weasley managed to remain...lovely.

She laughed again, and then she opened her eyes and stared at him, dead silent.

"_You-_" she accused suddenly, turning to face him through narrowed golden eyes, "you need to let go of me!"

Draco froze, and in that instant his heart plummeted to the ground – had he given himself away, after all these years of carefully hiding the fierce intensity of his feelings towards his best friend?

In that case – and here was the chilling part – _she was rejecting him_.

He knew she would have, anyway; she knew him all too well. But he had hoped...

"Draco – let go of me!" Ginny demanded, stomping her foot down – on his – and managing to fall over him in the process.

He struggled to maintain his balance, and managed to catch her by the waist before she toppled to the ground.

"Ginny," he began, but her next words made him snap his mouth shut and stare in dumb silence.

"Let go! I need to do my sexy dance!" she demanded, slapping his hands away. "And then you'll notice. You'll notice I'm a girl!" And then she burst out laughing, and promptly passed out.

* * *

**Prompt**: Drink

**Word count**: 379

**Pairing**: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley

I'd written this drabble ages ago for a "He Struggled to Maintain His Balance" challenge, but I'd never published it here. Does it count? Probably not. u_u


	10. Anger

**10. Anger**

He sat at his desk, in his study – the forbidden place, the place where he was not to be disturbed, even by her. Two fingers of Firewhiskey swirled in his glass, reflecting the light of the fire.

It was to her disappointing that he'd left the door ajar – she would have liked to have ripped it from its hinges, blasted it apart, if only to feel the satisfying crunch of old mahogany giving under her wand's blaze.

As it was, she'd had only to push lightly with her fingers to gain entrance.

He didn't bother looking up at her. Instead he continued to swirl the amber liquid in his glass for some moments before setting it down on the desk. When he finally raised his cool gray eyes to hers, he beheld her with what could only be polite disinterest.

"You are disturbing me," he said calmly, his voice smooth as velvet sheathing a deadly blade.

He looked as if he'd been beautifully chiseled out of stone; the sharp, masculine lines of his features were completely devoid of expression. His eyes alone, the color of newly forged iron, seemed to be alive in his face. Her fingers contracted with the urge to claw at it. She could picture herself ripping apart the haughty facade in search of the warm, fleshy insides that would reveal him to be human.

"Ginevra," he said, sparing her a glance before turning to the letters on his desk, "I won't tell you again."

There were things she'd wanted to say to him, words howling inside of her, desperate for release. But now as she stood before him faced with his indifference, with his disdain – there were no words.

She wanted to hurt him. To defile this place, this sanctuary. Every fiber of her ached to strike against the grandness of him. Sitting there he was like a fortress made of marble – strong, impenetrable, unassailable – and she wanted nothing more than to smash herself to pieces against his battlements, until there was nothing left of either of them.

Pressing her lips together tightly, she walked up to his desk. She grabbed the glass of Firewhiskey and smashed it into the fire.

He observed, unmoved, as the flames swelled and burned brightly, the light catching in her hair as if it too were made of fire.

* * *

**Prompt**: Anger

**Word count**: 392

**Pairing**: Lucius Malfoy/Ginevra Weasley

Eh... Heavy on the adjectives, much?

I blame this one on Kim (Boogum) who recently reminded me of how much I love L/G.


	11. Dreams

**11. Dreams**

"Want some strawberries in yours?" he asked, as he ran his knife through the plump, red fruit.

Standing at the kitchen counter, barefoot and wearing only a pair of faded jeans, he busied himself making pancakes as she busied herself running her eyes up and down his toned, athletic frame.

"Strawberries, love?" he asked again, raising his bright blue eyes to hers enquiringly when she didn't reply. "_What?_" he demanded laughingly, seeing her dazed expression.

She shook her head, and some of her silky brown tresses fell over her bare shoulder. "I just can't believe that you're mine," she whispered, reaching over to run her fingers through his wild, red hair.

"Of course I am," he replied, spreading sliced strawberries over her pancakes. "I said yes, remember?"

Hermione laughed and reached over to kiss her husband's lips. "I love you, Bill."

"And I love _you_," he said quietly, catching her plump bottom lip between his teeth. They gazed into each other's faces for a moment – until Ginny burst into their kitchen and began shaking Hermione by the shoulders.

"_Wake up!_ Breakfast is ready!"

"Huh?" Hermione mumbled, blinking against the dazzling sunlight.

"Breakfast!" the redhead repeated. "Jeez, you were out cold, Mione. I was shaking you and everything."

"Sorry," Hermione mumbled, sitting up in bed and running a hand through her bushy brown hair. "I was having the weirdest dream..."

"I'm going," Ginny called over her shoulder, "you know how Mum gets about food getting cold, and she's been calling us for ages."

"Okay," the brunette murmured, still dazed by her incredibly vivid dream; she could still feel her lips tingling where he'd bitten them.

Trying her best to snap out of it, she quickly dressed and ran out into the hallway – and walked straight into Bill Weasley's chest, at the foot of the stairs.

"You alright, there?" he said, automatically grabbing her by the shoulders and steadying her.

Hermione's cheeks burned as she stared up into his handsome, smiling face. "Um...Yeah. I...yeah," she mumbled, tearing her eyes away from his full lips.

"It's so weird that I bumped into you just now," Bill said, laughing. "Because I just had the weirdest dream. C'mon, we better hurry downstairs before Mum and Fleur kill us."

* * *

**Prompt**: Dreams

**Word count**: 395

**Pairing**: Hermione/Bill

May I point out that I just love living vicariously through Hermione? :D


	12. Puzzle

**12. Puzzle**

"Want some more tea?" Draco inquired, pouring himself a fresh cup. "I got you those bran muffins you like."

Ginny looked up from her copy of the Sunday _Prophet _and rewarded the handsome blond sitting across from her with a warm smile.

"With the bits of raisin in them?"

"Yes," Draco replied, stirring two sugars into her tea. "And the orange peel. I don't know how you eat that..."

Ginny made a face. Reaching over, she brushed his pale blond hair away from his eyes. "Remind me to cut your hair today. When's that Ministry thing, anyway?"

"Next Sunday. Mum wants to go shopping for dress robes. I was meant to tell you earlier, but... I forgot."

"Of course you did," Ginny said reprovingly, turning back to her paper as Draco turned back to his. "Puddlemere lost again."

"Hmm."

"Draco!" Ginny exclaimed suddenly. "What if I tell him I want to get married?"

The blond sighed behind the financial section of the _Prophet_. "Ginevra…"

"Listen," she said firmly, "if I tell Dean I want to marry him, he'd dump me. He'd cut and run-"

"Darling-"

"_Draco"_ she whined, meeting his silvery gray eyes over the rim of his paper. "Tell me what to do! I don't want to hurt him, but I just can't _be_ with him anymore."

She actually clenched and unclenched her small fists at the word 'be', as if even _saying_ it was stifling. It was so like her that Draco's lips unwittingly curved into a small smile behind his newspaper.

"Please," Ginny said, leaning towards him and taking his hand in hers, "what should I do about Dean?"

"Ginny, how should _I_ know?" he demanded, looking at his hand sandwiched in between her small ones.

"You're useless, Malfoy!" she wailed, dropping his hand unceremoniously and pressing her forehead against the table.

The blond cast his eyes skyward. "Ginny, love," he said softly, his hand kneading the back of her neck. "You've been with this bloke for four years. Why are you all of a sudden in such a hurry to get rid of him? Can't you at least wait until after the holidays?"

"You needn't defend him" she sulked, angling her neck so he could have more access. "He hates your guts."

"Dean?" Draco scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "He does _not._"

"He does _so,_" Ginny pouted, her voice muffled against the table. "He despises you. He thinks we've been shagging for years."

Draco's fine brows gathered in confusion. "Get off it! Why would he think that?"

Ginny tiredly lifted her head from the table, a bright red imprint branding her forehead.

She saw Draco's wondering expression and laughed. "Ugh, I don't know. Who even cares? He's paranoid like that."

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, a smile still lighting Ginny's face. He could almost see himself reflected in her warm brown eyes flecked with gold.

"Um...I don't know either," Draco said, looking away.

* * *

**Prompt**: Puzzle

**Word count**: 490

**Pairing**: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley

I relapsed! Meh. To tell the truth it's not nearly as satisfying when you go over.


	13. Discrepant

**13. Discrepant**

He'd heard that all brides were supposed to be pretty, but he hadn't been prepared to see her step out all in white, her face absolutely radiant. Her cheeks were flushed, her warm brown eyes were shining brilliantly with unshed tears. She was beautiful, and looking at her made something ache in his chest.

"_Do you, Hermione Jane Granger, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband..."_

What was this feeling? He was meant to be happy, but the emotion that swelled inside of him was somehow defective.

A shining canopy, with holes punched in it.

His mind unwittingly drifted to a time, not so many months ago, when it was almost a certainty that they'd all be dead, where moments like these were nothing but hopeless, silly dreams.

_"I do."_

But they weren't dead. They had survived, they three.

Moments later they were running out of the church all together, friends and family escorting the happy couple amidst a rain of rice to where the Ministry car awaited.

Suddenly she stood stock still. Turning to him, she flung her arms tightly around his neck.

"Oh, Harry...we did it," was all she managed to say. He could feel her breath on his ear, the wetness of her tears on his skin.

"Congratulations," he whispered, squeezing her tightly and quickly letting her go.

She looked up into his face smilingly, her lips trembling as happy tears streamed down her face, and he managed to smile back.

"Congratulations, mate," he said to Ron, who was also beaming, his face as red as his hair. They clapped each other on the back awkwardly, but sincerely.

Hermione still had her arm around his neck. Releasing him, she squeezed his hand between her gloved fingers one last time before slipping into the car.

He watched as they drove away, cans rattling in their wake in the Muggle tradition.

The heaviness in his chest became hollow as the holes in the shining canopy widened into a gaping mouth.

He was smiling.

* * *

**Prompt:** Discrepant

**Words:** 335

**Pairings:** Hermione/Ron

I wrote this after watching the scene of Harry and Hermione dancing in the tent in HP7. I'm not sure what it means, though. Is Harry incapable of being truly happy because of all he's been through, or is he in love with Hermione without even knowing it?


	14. Holiday

**14. Holiday **

They lay tangled on the hammock, swaying lightly in the warm Mediterranean breeze. The sun was slowly dipping behind the shimmering sea, coloring the sky in purple and gold.

His arm was wrapped around her waist, her leg hooked around his. She closed her eyes against the salty breeze, opening them occasionally to keep an eye on the baby, who was playing in the sand – and tottering up to the breaking waves.

"_Georgia!_"

She leapt off the hammock with the agility of a former professional Quidditch player, her vibrant red hair falling out of its chignon and tumbling down her back. "Get back here," she scolded, scooping up the child and turning to glare reprovingly at the nanny.

"Twinky is sorry, Mrs. Malfoy!" the house-elf squeaked, clearly mortified.

The child began to cry, her little feet kicking in the air as she squirmed in her mother's grasp.

"It's quite alright, Twinky," the man said calmly. He took the sobbing child from his wife's arms and held her up to his face. "Georgia – that's enough."

The baby's large, tear-stained gray eyes met his and she quieted instantly. She reached up to touch her father's face, grasping at his sharply defined cheekbones with her little hands.

He kissed her forehead and handed her to the nanny. "She'll want a nap."

She watched as the house-elf carried the child towards the beach house, and her husband watched her.

"She'll be fine," he said, drawing her to him by the waist.

"Lucius – I'm not one of _those_ mums, am I?" she said suddenly.

Her husband looked amused, but chose not to reply. Twining his fingers in hers, he twirled her around in a small circle in the sand, then drew her tightly to him. She bumped into his broad chest, laughing.

"_Ta-da-da-ta-da," _he hummed softly in a deep baritone, his hand on the small of her back, and she laughed when she recognized the tune of Celestina Warbeck's _"The Magic Of You"_.

The waves continued to break onto the shore, and sparkling foam would sometimes reach their bare feet. She rested her chin on his shoulder and closed her eyes as they gently swayed side to side. She could feel the vibrations of his quiet humming through her chest.

"I'm happy we finally did this," she whispered against his neck.

* * *

**Prompt:** Holiday

**Words:** 399! Woot :D

**Pairing:** Lucius Malfoy/Ginevra Weasley

I really liked this one, even if it might seem OOC to some ;)


	15. Mirror

**15. Mirror**

"Look at that," he says softly, standing behind her with his hands on either side of her narrow hips. "Look at how beautiful we are together."

He raises his lead gray eyes to hers in the mirror.

"Can you see?" he inquires gently, his arms encircling her waist.

She can feel the gentle heat of his body pressed against her back as he draws her to him. She can feel herself blush under the smoldering intensity of his metallic gray eyes. She smiles; a fan to shield away her face.

"Yes," she murmurs.

But she can't understand their reflection. It shows her how beautiful he is; how symmetrical and perfect the lines of his face, how beautiful his elven hair, and graceful his form. How hopelessly inadequate she is, standing beside him. There is nothing beautiful in that.

Turning her back on the glass, she wraps her arms around his neck.

He opens his mouth to speak and is silenced by her lips.

In the slow, drugging rhythm of his kisses she can almost forget the bitter taste of the lie she's told him.

**ooo**

When he left her...

(It was always a matter of when, not if.)

"We were just too different," she told Hermione."I was stupid to even think it could ever work."

"I'm just glad it happened now, and not later," she said to Luna. " I'm glad that I didn't fall in love with him."

"I'm okay, Mum, really," she assured Molly. "I was sort of expecting it. I think I was prepared."

**ooo**

(She hadn't been prepared.)

**ooo**

She recognizes that the aching heaviness coiled in her chest can only be the grief of loss, and the broken glass seeping through her tears must be stunted love. But when she looks in the mirror, it shows her something she can understand.

A pale freckled face.

A pair of sad brown eyes.

* * *

**Prompt:** Mirror

**Word count:** 313

**Pairing**: Draco/Ginny

I kind of hate this one. :/


	16. Seeking Peace

**16. Seeking Peace**

Draco ambled around the market, wondering if there was anything else he should get.

_She said no eggs..._

As usual, he'd forgotten to make a list of things they needed, and if he tried Flooing to ask she was bound to get angrier than she already was.

He rolled his eyes.

Maybe he should get a bottle of those cheap fruity sparkling wines she liked. He stood in front of the display of bottles and picked one out.

"That looks quite tasty," a sultry voice said beside him; he turned to discover a pair of large blue eyes fixed predatorily on his athletic frame. The blonde witch looked at his lips pointedly, and then raised her eyes to his gray ones.

"I'm not really a fan," Draco said, waving the bottle. "But it's my wife's favorite."

"Lucky her," the blonde replied, regaling him with a lingering look before retreating.

He sighed in relief. This wife thing sometimes totally backfired on him; who knew some women actually saw that as a plus?

He laid out his groceries in front of the clerk, noting he no longer felt silly purchasing her tampons, and that he now reached for the latest issues of_ Cosmowitch_ and _Charms Quarterly Digest_ as a matter of course.

Here he was, totally fucking whipped, and all she could do was nag, nag, nag.

"Spoiled brat," he muttered.

She had better get her act together or he'd send her packing back to her mum's house, he crowed inwardly.

And then he noticed the flower arrangements behind the registrar.

"I'll take some daisies too," Draco told the clerk imperiously, then peered at him carefully for signs of smirking on the pimple-covered face.

He Apparated outside of their building and took the lift up to their flat.

He found her dressed in baggy pajama pants and one of his old Falcons t-shirts, her bright red hair done up in a devil-may-care chignon. Her large brown eyes were wet with tears, and her pale face was splotched with red.

_Sweet Merlin... _

These period mood swings would be the death of him.

Groceries forgotten, he went to her and silently wrapped her into a tight hug.

"Draco," she blubbered against his chest, "I'm s-sorry. You've been s-so great and I've been a t-total h-h-haaaaaag!"

The blond sighed resignedly, raising his wife's tear-streaked face to his.

"I love you, you crazy witch."

* * *

**Prompt:** Seeking Peace

**Word count:** 398

**Pairing:** Draco/Ginny

I don't know about you guys, but I love to see domesticated!Draco :D

On another note, originally I started writing a Lucius/Ginny drabble for this prompt, but it got out of hand at +1,000 words. I decided to publish it separately as an L/G one-shot which should be up shortly.


	17. Questioning

**17. Questioning**

"What are you doing today?" She stretched her lean, bare limbs like a cat, then curled up into a ball under the blankets.

"Nothing." His pale gray eyes were fixed on the window, on the heavily falling snow that seemed to cover the outside world in a pristine blanket of white.

First snow. It had been late in coming, this year. The thought found its way through the noise of the angry words and bitter emotions stirred by the Floo call with his father.

He turned to her, wishing to tell her of the turmoil inside of him, but not knowing where to even begin.

Ginny sat up and looked at him searchingly, her amber eyes gently inquiring. "Draco...is everything-"

"I'm going out for a walk." He turned away from her and reached for his elegant winter coat, hanging next to her parka.

"Oh. Well...I guess I better leave?" she said with uncharacteristic uncertainty.

"You can leave if you want to," he returned.

As his hand closed around the brass of the doorknob he realized that what he'd really meant to say was, "I don't want you to leave". He hesitated before letting himself complete the motion he'd begun, but a moment later the door was slamming shut behind him.

_She'll be gone by the time I return_, he thought, with an unexpected pang of regret.

He turned up the collar of his coat, dipping his head against the cold, crisp winter air. Thick flakes fell against his face, dotting his eyelashes and catching in his pale hair. The crunch of the freshly fallen snow under his dragon-hide boots was slightly comforting.

He looked back the way he'd come, for once wishing that Ginny were the sort to follow after him, to not let him go away. One day he might not be able to find his way back to her; one day, Draco mused, he might need for her to pull him back, but would her pride allow her to?

He had never before paused to think about the chances of success their relationship would have. If he was honest, he had never paused to think about the fact that he was entering into a relationship with her in the first place. Things had just sort of...happened. Somewhere along the way, a casual fuck had turned into an established fuck had turned into a relationship.

Looking at it now he wasn't sure exactly where they were, or where they were headed. But he realized he'd be glad to have her company on this walk, even if it meant sacrificing the melancholy charm of solitude in a snow covered field.

An hour later he cautiously opened the door and was met by the heavy silence of an empty flat. He knew she would be gone, but part of him had hoped that...

Shaking his head, he removed his coat and gloves.

Curse him for not casting even a simple warming spell; he couldn't even feel his nose. It was freezing out there, and he could feel his extremities tingling as circulation was restored to them. He needed something warm to drink.

He ambled over to the kitchen and was surprised to find a head of fiery red hair bent over the stove.

"I'm making a peach cobbler," she explained, removing her oven mittens. "And I thought you'd like some tea when you got back..."

Draco folded his arms across his chest and rested his shoulder against the door frame. He watched as she poured the piping hot liquid and a cube of sugar into his tea mug.

Ginny raised her warm honey-colored eyes to his, and they gazed at each other in silence.

He'd worried that one day he wouldn't know the way back to her, but right now nothing seemed more natural than to bridge the distance between them and circle his arms around her waist. He gathered her to him and breathed her in, while her arms slipped around his neck.

"Your skin feels like ice," she said, resting her open palm against the side of his reddened cheek. "You have ice in your hair..."

"I didn't want you to leave," Draco murmured, his gray eyes meeting hers. "I'm glad you stayed."

"I am too," she whispered, her fingers in his wet hair.

* * *

**Prompt**: Questioning

**Words**: more than 400...

**Pairing**: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley

This is more like a one-shot than a drabble, lol. But I like how it came out. ^_^


	18. Red

**18. Red**

"Oh, please!" Narcissa huffed. "He's a _very_ well-behaved baby. You won't even notice he's here. Isn't that right, darling? Yes you are!"

Draco's large gray eyes crinkled as he laughed and clapped his hands.

Lucius raised a pale eyebrow.

"Bye-bye, Draco! Mummy loves you!" Narcissa kissed the baby's nose as she set him in his playpen and blew a kiss at her husband before Disapparating.

"Great." Lucius harrumphed. A playpen in his study.

Draco was looking up at him intently, a plastic toy held tightly in his hand.

"Play with your toys," Lucius said imperiously over the rim of his reading glasses. "Don't stare at daddy."

Draco held his arms out, his hands opening and closing in a demeanor nearly as imperious as his father's.

Lucius rolled his eyes but picked up his son and held him to his chest. Draco's pudgy fingers immediately went to his father's long silvery blond hair, giving a vicious yank.

"No, Draco," Lucius said calmly. He sat at his desk again, settling the baby on his lap as he continued to read.

Except for occasionally throwing his toys across the room at random, Draco really was a well-behaved baby. Lucius was able to get on with his work with relative tranquility, until Twinky the house-elf informed him that there was a Floo call in the parlour.

Lucius looked at the baby calculatingly.

"Draco, I'm going to the parlour for a moment," he said quietly, gazing into his son's wide and innocent looking gray eyes. "_Do not touch anything while I'm gone_. Is that clear?"

"Ta-ta-ta..." Draco babbled, kicking his little feet as his father set him down in the playpen.

They stared at each other for a moment, gray eyes meeting, until Lucius walked out of the study with a soft "Hmm."

He was gone less than a minute.

When he returned...

"Salazar's beard," Lucius swore quietly.

A shock of color dyed Draco's fair hair, his clothes and his hands. Not only that, the once pristine walls and ceiling of Lucius' study were now covered in vivid splotches of brightly colored material.

Draco looked delighted, his little hands opening and closing as if trying to grasp at the paint in the ceiling.

"Really, Draco..." Lucius snorted, looking up at the splashes of bold, red paint. "How gaudy."

* * *

**Prompt**: Red

**Word count:** 399

**Pairing: **future D/G!

Thanks for your reviews, guys. It's great to know that I'm not the only one following these. ^_^


	19. Happiness

**19. Happiness**

She was cleaning her bathroom tiles, methodically running her wand over them. Her foot rested on the edge of the tub, cherry-red toenails contrasting against beige porcelain.

He smirked, watching her from outside of the bathroom window.

"_Draco_?"

She hadn't expected him to be back so soon, but there he was – casually perched on his broom, floating in mid-air with the wind gently whipping his fair hair about. He was dressed in a tailored white suit, white Falmouth t-shirt underneath, eyes shaded by enormous gold-rimmed sunglasses.

"My God - you look like a pimp...Or an angel..."

Draco grinned, lowering his sunglasses to peer at her over the rim. "Looks can deceive... Hop on, witch."

Ginny looked down at her jeans and t-shirt.

"Beautiful," he assured her.

"Shoes-"

"No shoes." Draco held out his hand.

She climbed out, lithely slipping through the bathroom window. Mounting behind him, her hands snaked around his middle as he took off.

"_Whoooooooooooo!"_

Ginny laughed as Draco whooped joyously, enjoying the feel of her arms around him, the wind rippling through her hair, the tingling in her stomach at his reckless speed.

They climbed higher and higher towards the brightly shining sun, the late summer air much cooler at this altitude.

"Are you cold?" He reached back to squeeze her knee. "Do you need my jacket?"

"I'm OK," she said, grateful that he couldn't see her silly grin.

She held onto him tightly, even after he descended and slowed to a lazy drift. They reached the park by her house and landed lightly on scattered leaves.

"Right, your feet. Here." He helped her climb onto his back, supporting her bottom securely as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Ginny rested her face against his smooth cheek, enjoying their proximity. He smelled delightful.

"You're back early."

Draco turned his face to hers. "Do you want ice cream?"

"Why didn't you owl?" she returned, gazing steadily into his slate gray eyes.

"Because I missed you," he said simply.

Knowing Draco, this made perfect sense. That he would admit to it made something warm flutter and spill over in her chest.

"I've missed you too," she murmured.

Draco held her gaze a moment longer before turning away. "Well, good."

She couldn't see his face, but she knew he was smiling.

* * *

**Word count**: 398

**Prompt**: Happiness

**Pairing**: early stages D/G ^_^

Thanks again for your amazing reviews. You guys truly make my day.


	20. Family

**20. Family**

She barged into the flat letting the door slam loudly behind her, her heavy boots thumping against the wooden floor of the hall.

"You're home early..." he called from the bedroom. "How's Molly? Was Hermione there with Emma?"

Ginny was normally amused at how Draco privately referred to Hermione by her given name but insisted on calling her 'Granger' to her face. Now she ignored him as she hastily peeled her clothes off.

Not saying a word, she locked herself in the bathroom. She continued to ignore him once she emerged, silently slipping into her sleeping boxers and tank-top. It wasn't until she was about to climb into bed that he came up from behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle and resting his chin on her shoulder as he held her.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Draco said quietly, and she could feel the rumbling of his deep, low voice through her chest.

Aware of the softness and warmth of his bare skin pressed against hers, Ginny suppressed a shiver, hating her body for instantly relaxing into his embrace.

"Let go of me, Malfoy."

"No, I don't think I will, _Malfoy,_" he returned calmly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, you jackass," she spat, trying to pry his hands from her waist.

Draco released her immediately and she turned to glare at him, her face flushed.

"I want a baby!" she wailed.

He stared at her in dumbfounded silence, gray eyes wide, and then - to her dismay -_ laughed_.

Before she could explode Draco had drawn her to him again, a faint smile still playing on his lips.

"I want to have a baby too, Gin," he said softly.

"What? But...you said you wanted it to be just the two of us..."

"Yeah, at first. We've been married three years, Ginny," he said patiently. "And I thought _you_ didn't want to, because of Quidditch – "

Ginny stared up at him, comprehension dawning on her features. "So...we can have a baby?"

"As many as you want," Draco said solemnly. Then he smirked, unzipping his jeans. "I'm ready..."

Ginny laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck, amber eyes dancing. "Oh, Draco...our own family. _Our_ babies."

Draco kissed his wife's forehead and smiled. "I can't wait to meet them..."

* * *

**Prompt: **Family

**Word count:** 400

**Pairing:** Draco Malfoy/Ginny Malfoy :P

Emma is Hermione and Ron's daughter. Or Hermione and Charlie's daughter, for the so inclined. u_u

So I know these drabbles are all sickeningly sweet lately, but I'm going through a rough time and can't handle writing angst right now...I promise to try my best to sprinkle in some angsty goodness in the coming ones.


	21. Divorce

This was inspired by **Aerileigh's** _"A Malfoy Inspects a Weasley After a Fight"_ challenge, issued at The DG Forum and due May 9th, 2011. Soundtrack is _Disintegration_, by The Cure.

* * *

**21. Divorce**

"Ginevra – why not?" Draco braced his hand against the door frame. "We'll look after him. He'll be perfectly fine."

Ginny remained silent, her eyes fixed on the birthday cake she was icing with a large number _6_.

"I will be there, Daphne will be there, we'll have house-elves... he'll be safe. He'll have fun." Draco paused, thinking. "We'll play Quidditch. And there's a lake. Daphne remembers a petting-zoo from when she was a kid..."

Her jaw became slightly tense, but Draco didn't notice.

"Besides, you'll get a full week to yourself," the blond added absently, his fingers playing with the keys in his pocket. "That way you and Wood can have some time alone together, without a kid to –"

Ginny's face flushed bright red, and Draco realized immediately he'd said the wrong thing.

Now that he thought about it, Julian hadn't mentioned Wood for a long time.

Draco's gray eyes swiftly appraised her face for signs of grief, but there were none. She was barefoot and wore a pair of old pajama bottoms that he recognized as once belonging to him. The flash of gold from her ring-finger surprised him, as it always did; it'd been years since he'd taken off his own band.

"Ginny."

She cringed as if he'd struck her.

"Fine. Take Julian. He'd love to go..." She paused, and Draco could see her profile outlined against the yellow kitchen tiles. "I know you're _capable_ of taking care of him. I never said –"

"– I _know_," Draco cut in, feeling himself tense.

"Then don't make it sound like –"

"– I wanted to reassure you, for fuck's sake," he snapped, suddenly angry. No one else could...

Ginny's lips formed a tight line. She hadn't looked at him, not once.

Her magnificent hair was down in messy waves. Standing there in her small kitchen she retained a muted sort of beauty, like a wilted flower might. But her pale face was closed, like a window someone had boarded up.

_Look at me._

Draco strode over to her without having decided to. He stood beside her, gray eyes seeking hers.

_Ginny... Always – you always... This is not what I wanted either. This is not what I wanted..._

"I'll pick him up tomorrow morning," Draco said quietly.

Ginny nodded almost imperceptibly.

There was nothing else they could say to each other.

* * *

**Prompt**: Divorce

**Word Count**: 397

**Pairing**: Draco Malfoy/Daphne Greengrass, Ginny Weasley/Oliver Wood (?)


	22. Flying

**22. Flying**

She clutched the parchment between gloved fingers, the sound of her boots striking the floor her only companion as she stalked down the stairs that led to the headmaster's dungeon.

The entire team had been outraged to learn the news, but – as one of her Beaters pointed out – no one else was crazy enough to confront Snape, especially not over _Quidditch_.

Her stomach tightened at this thought but she pressed on, propelled by anger and a heady sense of recklessness. To hell with it. Quidditch – flying – was all she had left. Her only escape...

She rounded the corner, red hair swishing down her back, and stopped short at the sight of the two men in quiet conference at the end of the hallway.

The lean figure of Snape, pallid and dressed entirely in black, contrasted sharply with the taller, stronger frame of the man beside him. She couldn't see his face, but the gleaming white-blond hair that fell over his shoulders, shining like a beacon under the overhead lamps, was enough to clue her in as to his identity.

As if sensing her presence, both men fell silent and the blond one turned. She felt her gut freeze as his gray eyes swiftly flicked over her; at the moment she was dressed in full Quidditch regalia, but he had a way to make her feel as if she were standing there naked.

"Lucius," Snape said smoothly in a slightly louder voice, "surely you remember Miss Weasley? She is our Gryffindor Quidditch captain - or perhaps_ former_ captain, as flying has been banned on the grounds until further notice."

Ginny's face blushed crimson at these words, but she said nothing.

"Ah," Malfoy murmured elegantly, and turning away from Ginny as if he'd already forgotten her, continued speaking to Snape in an undertone.

She hung back, uncertain. Heart pumping.

They continued to ignore her as they spoke, and she found her eyes flicking to _him_ as she waited. He was often seen in the castle these days, coming and going from Snape's office or private chambers. And he looked at her. She could feel his eyes on her. And sometimes she would look back.

Why?

It made no sense. He was a Death Eater, and Harry was off probably getting himself killed somewhere...it made no sense.

Yet Lucius Malfoy, with his broad shoulders and tall, strong frame, the hard angles of his handsome face and those eyes that seemed to pierce straight through to her... He was so... _male_. He was a man, and somewhere inside of her was a woman who responded.

The thought was so foreign, so odd. No one else had made her this aware of her own body, her own role as the opposite of everything that was male. With only a glance.

But Harry... She _loved_ Harry. He was just a boy, as she was just a girl, wasn't she?

Malfoy was shaking Snape's hand and he was looking at her now, his eyes hard and gray as slate, and she held his gaze, disgusted at the thrill that rippled through her; whenever his eyes met hers she felt herself blush at the thought of the things men and women did when they were alone together.

"Miss Weasley," he said now in a low baritone, his tone casual, as if this wasn't the first time he ever spoke to her directly, "the headmaster is all yours, I won't keep him from you any longer. Good luck pleading your case..."

With a bow that was formal and only half-mocking, Malfoy took his leave of her.

She felt her hair stir as he walked by.

Taking a deep breath to still the part of her that was still trembling, Ginny turned to the bat-like figure of Snape, now looming before her.

"Sir..."

* * *

**Prompt:** Flying.

**Word count:** more than 400.

**Pairing:** Lucius/Ginny, implied Harry/Ginny.

Soundtrack is "La Chispa Adecuada", by Heroes del Silencio.

Yeah, pointless indulgence of my love of hot older Slytherins. u_u

I've been in a funk and this is the first thing I've managed to write in a few weeks, so I'm unrepentant. :P


	23. Drowning

A/N: still rated T but I should warn you this one is dark. Nothing graphic, but there are many things implied.

* * *

**23. Drowning **

His forehead flat against the hard, unyielding surface of the desk, the heaviness in his chest expanding until he can barely draw breath.

He rises, eyes wide, chest heaving.

Desk. Chair. Books. Paintings.

_Father, father, father..._

Colors swim in his vision, the water in his eyes makes familiar objects blur into unknown shapes. And there is nothing here of what he's come to find, and the murky, cold waters keep rising inside, creeping up slowly until he is sure that he will drown on his feet.

His hands grasp blindly, clutching at the parchment spread over the desk, tearing it apart, but there is no relief. The well loved objects on the shelves crash to the ground, the cane broken in two, but the waters keep rising.

His feet carry him out of the study, and he lets them lead him where they will. Up the stairs, as if in a dream, he finds himself facing the handsome oak door, fingers curled around the brass of the knob.

A new wave batters him and he flounders, sinking under, nails digging into the skin of his wrist. He is gasping for air, he is kicking at the door. There she sits, wide-eyed, listening attentively, and when the door bursts open she jumps to her feet, she lunges at him, as if he's called her name, as if she'd been waiting, all along, waiting. Her eyes hold the same agony, the same destruction that is breaking the inside of him and try as he might he can't tear his gaze from her haunted, golden one.

_Mother. _

Mother – his name for her all these years, mocking, disdaining. His lips mouth the word, but there is no sound. His lungs are full of water, he can't bring himself to say it now. Her chest heaves as if she too were drowning, and when his hands tear at the lace hers are already clawing at his shirt, leaving marks on the pallid skin beneath.

Amber clashes against what he knows is the wrong shade of grey, fingers digging into too-soft tresses that are shorter than they should be, shoulders that are narrower than they should be. And it's all wrong, wrong, wrong, but for a moment, only for a moment , they cling tightly to each other, gasping in great mouthfuls of breath and the hurt isn't so stifling.

But they are still drowning.

* * *

**Prompt:** Drowning

**Word Count**: 400

**Pairing:** Draco Malfoy/Ginevra Malfoy


	24. Bed

**24. Bed**

"Draco's linens will want changing," Mrs. Weasley said absently, folding the last of the fresh batch of laundry into a neat pile on the kitchen table. "Ginny, take these up to his room."

Hermione's intelligent brown eyes flicked to Ginny's face at these words, and the redhead made sure to appear aggravated as she walked up to accept the folded linens.

"I still don't get why _Malfoy_ gets his own room," she heard Ron mutter as she left the kitchen.

"Master Draco is Black of Black. He is handsome, noble son of Mistress Cissy, not big-nosed-freckled-faced son of blood traitor fil – "

Ginny couldn't hear the rest of Kreacher's impassioned defense of Draco, already having mounted the rickety staircase that led to the second level of number 12.

The Slytherin's presence in the house seemed to have greatly impacted everyone, she mused, from the brooding, filthy house-elf – who had postrated himself before Draco, practically kissing his feet on the night the Slytherin arrived – to Sirius Black himself, who appeared uneasy to have a Malfoy in the safe-house, Black of the Black or not.

Ginny refrained from examining her own reaction to Draco's presence just now. She was at his door; it was ajar, and she could see him standing by the window. There was something about him standing there, the way he was intently peering out onto the street, that made Ginny suddenly think of a caged bird.

"Back for more, Weasley?" he inquired, his voice low and haughty. But when he turned to face her his gray eyes held no malice.

"Mum sent these. For your bed," she said in a surprisingly even voice.

Draco studied her in silence for some moments, then drew his wand and flicked it at the door. She heard the soft click of the lock, and held her ground as he approached her, his eyes never leaving hers.

In the end, it was she who bridged the final distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck, grabbing fistfuls of his fair hair as he lowered his face to hers. It had been days since the last time, and she'd tried hard to forget the taste and feel of him. Now she lost herself in him, the bars that held him embracing her too, if only briefly.

The clean linens slid to the floor, forgotten.

* * *

**Prompt:** Bed.

**Word count:** 400.

**Pairing:** Draco/Ginny.

So I hope it's implied by Draco's casual use of magic outside of Hogwarts that he is of age, even though Sirius is alive. In this AU version of HP, Draco has joined the Order of the Phoenix after graduating from Hogwarts, which is what I believe should have happened in canon. u_u

Also, a bit all over the place, but the first thing I've completed since May 2011 – a year. I'll take it. :D


	25. Balloon

**25. Balloon**

Draco Malfoy sat on a park bench, eyes fixed on a distant point in the horizon. Passersby made note of his striking features, of his white-blond hair and pale skin, contrasting sharply with his finely cut dark clothing. He in turn remained unaware of the interesting picture he made, or even of the passage of time. He was thinking of copper-colored curls and gypsy eyes.

It had taken him some time to admit that he liked the witch; liked her a lot. Unfortunately, things weren't that simple. He wanted her – that part was not hard to figure out – but did he want to_ be_ with her? She was _a Weasley_, for Salazar's sake. What would his parents say? Could he bring her out to the various public events he was expected to attend? Or could he just bed her and establish some sort of casual arrangement by leaving things as undefined as they were now?

_Yes, that's it. No flowers-and-chocolate type shit_, Draco thought scornfully. _And she can take it or leave it._

He rose from his bench and resolved not to see her today; he'd been paying her too much attention lately, and she might be getting ideas about a non-existent attachment on his part.

On his way out of the park Draco encountered a pimpled youth selling balloons, stuffed animals and similar rubbish. Draco's eye settled on a single round balloon in the Muggle fashion. It didn't seem to be doing anything in particular other than float; it didn't take on interesting shapes, didn't make any noises, and stayed blue the entire time he watched it. Rather simple, as balloons went, but the more he looked at it the more Draco felt it held a strange sort of charm in its very simplicity. Maybe because it didn't go around trying to please people; it was what it was, it did its own thing.

"I'll take that blue balloon," he informed the kid imperiously. He had a feeling Ginny would like it too. "And the falcon, while you're at it," he added as an afterthought, reaching into his coin bag.

"How about a rose, sir?" the kid inquired hopefully, displaying a row of single red roses, each artfully arranged with a wreath of baby's breath.

"Psssh. Absolutely not," Draco scoffed. Then, balloon and stuffed falcon in hand, he Apparated straight to Ginny's flat.

* * *

**Prompt:** Balloon

**Word count:** 400.

**Pairing:** Draco/Ginny.


	26. Compressed

**26. Compressed**

"Hey..." He'd answered the door in his pajama bottoms, his fair hair in elegant disarray about his head, toned upper body bare in all its golden splendor.

For one weird moment Ginny felt herself fighting back a blush as he drew her in and wrapped his arms around her.

_Gods, he smells good._

"You look like shit," Draco announced. He released her and ruffled her hair before leading her to the plush leather sofa. "Only _you_ would get stuck working overnight on a Saturday, Weasley. How was it?"

Ginny grunted for all response, flopping over on the sofa and watching him through sleepy eyes as he headed over to kitchen island. "Not everyone can be CEO of their own company, Malfoy," she shot back, hugging one of his plump cushions to her chest. "Some of us have to work for a living."

"I work," Draco huffed, skillfully cracking an egg and reaching for the whisker. He had the confidence of one who knew his way around a kitchen, and Ginny found his precise, deft movements mesmerizing. The fact that he was naked from the waist up was just the icing on the delicious Draco-cake.

_Ugh, Ginny! STOP IT! How do you think he'd feel if he knew how you were mooning over him..._

And yet...Lately Ginny couldn't be sure. Was she completely off the mark, or did he seem to be more affectionate, more physical? Draco was Draco and he'd always flirt, even with her. But still...

He looked up from the tomato he was dicing and met her gaze. "What?"

Her stomach flopped in a way that was not entirely unpleasant. "Nothing. Just tired."

"Poor baby." Draco pouted with mock sympathy.

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.

"Do cheer up. You're about to eat my world-famous omelette, and then you can shower and change out of those ghastly scrub things." He was slicing mushrooms now, his eyes on the task at hand, while her eyes hungrily took in the sight of him. "And then you can sleep, and then maybe we can go see the ducks at Luna's farmhouse."

She nodded, distracted by his deep, low voice. "Sounds like my kind of Sunday."

He wasn't even dating anyone. _This is the longest stretch he's ever gone without sex. Maybe we..._

Her thoughts trailed off in intriguing directions, and she did her best to snap out of it. It was then she realized that something had been poking at her backside since she'd sat. Reaching under her, Ginny drew out a small silver earring and turned it over in her fingers, wondering where she had last seen it. Holding up the piece of jewelry, she looked at Draco curiously.

"What?" he inquired, licking sauce off his finger as he stirred one of the pots. "What is that?"

Something had already clicked in Ginny's brain, but it took a moment for the prickly feeling of heaviness to settle inside of her.

"This is my friend's earring..."

"Oh yeah, that American girl. Lola?"

"_Lara_," Ginny corrected sharply. "When did you... So you guys met up?"

"Well, she owled me after you left the bar on Friday." Draco paused to adjust the heat of the stove. "Can't say I even tried. You know how irresistible I am, Gin," he said seriously, stirring his sauce again. "It's almost a curse."

Draco looked up and smirked, but the corners of his mouth fell when his gray eyes met hers. "Everything alright, love?"

She was aware of Draco's eyes fixed intently on her face, of his wooden spoon suspended in mid-air, immobile, and the rapid, throbbing beating of her heart. Mercifully, she didn't blush.

Ginny shook her head, remembering to lift the corners of her mouth. "Sorry, I was thinking about work." She met his gaze squarely and smiled, relieved that she'd picked up a thing or two in her tenure as a Malfoy' s best mate. "Now do hurry up with that world-famous omelette, will you? I'm starving."

* * *

**Prompt: **Compressed

**Word count:** More than 400, but first thing I've written in ages, so I'll take it.

**Pairing: **Draco/Ginny, Draco/other.


	27. Reinvigorated

**27. Reinvigorated**

It had been drizzling lightly when he left Gringott's, but by the time he reached home it was raining in earnest. Soaked to the bone, he slowly mounted the stairs leading up to his flat. Exhaustion weighed in every single one of his limbs, the sound of his heavy step and the rhythmic _tap, tap_ of the water dripping from his clothes his only companions.

He had a lonely dinner and an empty bed to look forward to, and at the thought of countless similar evenings stretching out before him he somehow felt even more tired. But when he let himself into the flat the sight that met him left him paralyzed, and he actually had to remind himself to exhale.

He approached her slowly, sinking to his knees beside her, his eyes hungrily taking in every detail of her appearance. She had fallen asleep in his armchair, with the inevitable book still open on her lap. Her long brown hair was bound in a tight plait, and in sleep the inquisitive arch of her brows had softened, making her look much younger than her age. Her formidable defenses were completely lowered when she slept, making her seem so innocent and vulnerable, and in turn bringing out a tenderness in him that he'd never felt towards anyone else.

He gently took her book, _De Occulta Philosophia_, carefully marking her page before setting the heavy tome on the table, by the empty cup of tea. Holding his breath, he reached out and curled the tip of her braid in his finger.

After a moment he sat back on his haunches, running both hands through his long wet hair. He wanted to hold her, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to watch her sleep forever.

She opened her eyes then, and her lips curved into a soft smile. "Hullo, Bill," she whispered.

"You came back," he commented, folding his arms and resting them on his knees.

She shrugged, looking down at her hands. "There will be other courses to teach, and other conferences. Maybe here in London. But you… I thought about what you said." She raised her chocolate brown eyes to his, and the warmth he saw in them made him feel as if she'd already wrapped her arms around him. "I've missed you," she said simply.

Bill rose to his feet, the cramping in his legs and the tiredness in his body already long forgotten. He held out his hand to her wordlessly and she took it, rising to stand before him. He drew her to him and breathed her in, enjoying the warmth of her, the feel of her in his arms.

"I've missed you too," he whispered against her ear, before scooping her up into his arms.

She giggled and held on tightly, her long legs wrapping themselves around his waist almost of their own accord. "I'm so tired," she murmured after a moment, yawning sleepily.

"Hmm. It's odd," he said quietly, smiling his crooked smile and resting his forehead against hers, "I myself feel strangely reinvigorated."

* * *

**Prompt**: Reinvigorated

**Word count**: 500

**Pairing**: Hermione/Bill

I like this because it feels like there's already a lot of history between these two.

On another note: **The DG Forum Fic Exchange – Summer 2013**, is officially up and running. This will be our 6th exchange, and based on the quality of the prompts it's already shaping up to be one of our best. Prompt submissions close on June 14th, so there's still time to join for any who are interested! Click on the link to the forum in my profile and go to the fic exchange thread for more information, or PM me.


	28. Spilt Milk

**28. Spilt Milk**

It was bitterly cold, and even in the bright sunlight of midday the air seemed to slash viciously against their cheeks. They huddled together as they walked into the park, arms linked, Draco leading the way further into the desolated grounds.

"Do you ever wonder if we made a mistake, Gin?" he asked quietly, so that she wouldn't have heard unless she'd been pressed against him.

"Getting married?" A rueful smile curved her lips. "I think it's been proven that it was a mistake, Draco."

"No. I meant quitting at it." He turned to look at her, noting the way her hair seemed to glow like fire in the sun, and that her nose and cheeks were reddened by the cold. She hadn't changed much in all this time. "Do you ever think that if we'd both stuck it out a bit longer…."

"Stuck it out," she said abruptly, freeing her arm from his. "Endured it. Do you remember how bad it was near the end, Draco? How we hurt each other, how we punished each other every day..." Ginny paused, her eyes taking in the still barrenness of the tree branches, the hardness of the frozen ground. There was a solemn beauty here even now, where winter had ravaged everything.

"I never would have been able to leave," she admitted finally.

"And I knew that - I knew you would never leave. But we both wanted out, didn't we?" He lifted her chin, pale eyes blazing, the sharp angles of his face outlined by the stubborn brightness of the winter sun. "Do you realize how you burdened me? I can't get over the feeling that I've betrayed you in some way. Isn't that absurd?"

Ginny shifted her gaze from his uneasily. She'd never heard Draco say even half as much on the subject, and the thought of addressing her own long buried feelings scared her more than she could admit to herself. She laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound.

"Draco, what's this all about? Why now? Are you worried that your marriage to Astoria will sour the way ours did?" She shook her head, but softened the harshness of her words by gently laying her hand against his chest, where his heart would be.

He laid his gloved hand over hers, and they stayed that way for some moments, both seemingly unwilling to move. "I'm not thinking about Astoria, or about the wedding," he said finally, gray eyes seeking hers. "I'm thinking about us."

"Us." Once more her eyes took in the desolation around them, the bareness of a land despoiled by an unforgiving winter. "There is no us. Not anymore. Not for a long time, even before you left."

Draco looked at her in silence, unable to dispute the absolute truth of that statement.

_But I loved you._

Ginny smiled sadly, almost as if she'd heard. Taking his hand in hers, she turned and walked back the way they'd come.

* * *

******Prompt**: Spilt Milk

******Word count**: 478

******Pairing**: Draco/Astoria, divorced!Draco/Ginny

But why didn't they cast a heating charm? ;)

* * *

A reminder,** prompt submissions for ********The DG Forum Fic Exchange – Summer 2013 **close on June 14th, so there's still time to join. Click on the link to the forum in my profile and go to the fic exchange thread for more information, or PM me.


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